


Till Midnight Sun's Reign

by audentis



Series: Compulsory Figures [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 01/14/21: author taking an extended break!, Competitive Figure Skating, Fluff and Angst, Ice Skating, Inspired by Yuri!!! on Ice, Japan National Team, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Gay, Sort Of, anxiety mentions, i said this was going to be fluff, national team things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audentis/pseuds/audentis
Summary: Akaashi Keiji was born for the ice.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Compulsory Figures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072976
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20
Collections: Bonk Secret Santa





	1. Fallen Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KOUBOKEIJI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KOUBOKEIJI/gifts).



> this was a long time coming so i'm really happy to have finally gotten this up! this has been a dream project of mine and i had a lot of fun working on this i just hope you all enjoy it as much as i do~
> 
> this is dedicated to pops, merry christmas hope this lives up to your expectations :'D

Akaashi Keiji was born for the ice.

There was a fantastical magic in the bitter cold that he simply could not explain. It coursed through his veins, racing as swift as the glide of blades against frost. He had detested it as a child, never seeing the necessity of enslaving himself in a relationship he had fallen out of love with one too many times. Yet every flurry of movement through frostbit air surfaced the impossible art of levitation that the youth seemingly possessed. This in itself should have been enough of a living testament for the potential he held in the palm of calloused hands.

Yet, the boy with frost in his veins and grace in his every motion would have declined such high praise for the so-called “talent” of which he so tremendously exhibited. It was excused as beginner’s luck that apparently still stained the air around worn blades like the pest he saw it to be. You would have to brush it off as just that when the dulled eyes marked its gaze, waiting for you to agree. No one ever questions the words of those who spoke quite so sincerely of themselves.

Suppose incredulity was his worst challenger.

_“It has been yet another lack-luster season for Japan’s Fallen Star. A season’s best almost nine points below his personal best made two seasons ago.”_

_“It’s almost shocking this was the same skater who broke the records in the Junior Nationals at Sapporo almost 4 years ago. Many have claimed the decision of retirement is up in the air once again, owed to his failure to qualify for any international competitions this year.”_

_“The National Championships will be his last attempt at snatching a place on Japan’s team roster. He needs a minimum 5th placing, but going up against international champions, the question tonight is, will he be able to reclaim lost ground?”_

.

“Akaashi-kun.” The gloved hand gripped his shoulder, pressing the mesh against bare skin. He winced at the tight grasp, wriggling slightly to see if he could loosen it up, but to no avail. Instead, he shallowed the rapid thud of his heart, stoically waiting for the vain consolation that was to follow. “No matter what they say, you are in command of the rink.”

It was hollow to these tired ears, but he still nodded curtly to which Arakawa-sensei only gave a quick subsupportive wave in response. His words were meant to rest the younger’s tingling nerves, except they did not. But, Akaashi was not nervous. It was quite the opposite actually. There was a feeling of relief that so gently set in. That this frigid hell would be over in a few counted minutes whether the judges gave him the passing validation or not.

The crowd cheered wildly as his skates instinctively travelled through the perimeter of the rink. The lightness of the glide, the feeling that he could unlatch from gravity itself had always been something of an amusement to him. It was something that anchored him to the merciless ice below. Yet, no matter the joy he derived from these small moments, bitter laughter still bubbled in his throat as frosted wind nipped at his skin.

As he stood warily at the center of it all, the world of cold wisps and white beams of light, he wanted to believe more than ever that the claps and awed gazes were truly for him. An answer came in the form of the return of silence, just as the door shut behind the previous challenger.

Curses were for petty criers and dwelling on the miniscule is a thing of the past, he whispered with a serene smile. Well, the rabid voices that lived in his mind had not faded as much as would have been appreciated. The thought, however, that he could berate his own subpar performance, rather than thirst for onlooker’s validations, almost calmed him down as he stepped into his starting pose.

He basked in the silence of stellar lights, the cloud of frosted breath hazing its blinding gleam. Just for a second, he could revel in the quiet of a tired mind before the self-loathing arose cued by the eerie notes of strung violin. And as the trilled strain poured in from invisible amplification, and the statuesque posture graciously unfurled, he had the audacity to hope that the future held something better.


	2. In Principle

**Japan Skating Federation** @JPSkatingOff

The 2015-2016 Japan Figure Skating Championships has concluded! Results are posted in the attached photo below. Remember, the Top 5 will be assigned to the ISU International Competitions this season! Congratulations to everyone!

7:11 PM · Dec 27, 2015 · Twitter Web App

**Aisem IS SCREAMING** @_Aisem · Dec 27

Replying to @JPSkatingOff

6TH #%)*&#%##$ MY BKAK AGENDA IS GOING TO SINK BEFORE IT EVEN BEGAN

**moon ☽ life is not daijoubu** @KOVURI_ · Dec 27

Replying to @JPSkatingOff

that was his last chance at making it to worlds this hurts so much

**K ( a r i ) AGEYAMAS WIFE | BEST TOBIO STAN** @T0BIOh · Dec 28

Replying to @JPSkatingOff

i heard his next program was supposed to be moulin rouge...CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW GOOD THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN??

* * *

Japan in December’s grasp was chilly enough, so the added frost of the rink’s AC was not at all welcomed. Suppose Akaashi should have considered this when he decided to become a competitive figure skater, but the eagerness of a life on the ice had greatly overshadowed that prospect at that time. He should have thought out his priorities better.

He winced as the cold breeze made another passing at him. His hands no longer froze quite as statuesquely at the mere touch of winter’s breath. Almost twelve years on the ice had chased that habit out of his being. He did, however, still conceal his bare skin under threaded layers. For warmth or for the need to feel protected from the demons that sat outside his door, both would have been acceptable assumptions. And with the frigid air came the craving for physical warmth, even as he clutched the burning hot phone in his gloved palm.

How many times had he gone through these replies? Five, ten, probably more. His eyes had burned, drooped, teared up, but those deep blue irises could not bear to part with the glaring screen. Validation was something Akaashi had always thirsted for, even when he did not realize it. And as much as he hated to admit this desire for outward approval, it haunted him like those rabid voices that screeched disapprovals into the midnight sun.

**pops☆** @KOUBOKEIJI · Dec 27

Replying to @JPSkatingOff

merry christmas to the akaashi stans sobs </3

He laughed a little.

Christmas had been dictated as his favorite time of the year. This was, of course, by association with the snow fall and brisk wintry winds of which his world was made of. But it had once been as a child, the magic of the season having slowly trickled away like so many other childish things. In the present reality, it was a dreaded season, this year being no exception.

The holidays had been spent in Osaka, albeit a day late. The competition had been right on the tail of Christmas, stretching on into the wee hours of 26th. But, with his mother from the port city, his family thought it almost too fitting an opportunity to pass up. But what was supposed to be a happy reunion took a depressing down-turn for the younger. They had all been there to watch him, of course; reality had never been kinder. Thus, they too had watched him fall.

Enter the mandatory family Christmas lunch, or what could be compacted into a few sympathetic reassurances and half-hearted congratulations. There were also the lingering exasperatives as well as the what ifs that had no right to be said politely, all submerged beneath the sea of plastic pleasantries. They thought he wouldn’t notice its existence. He endured it all, sighing through the gap in his plastered smile as another nameless figure came to eat up his presence.

(Suppose his most prodigious fault was that he dreamed of being someone greater than who he was actually born to be. Though, the stellar lights and winter’s breath should have been enough of an affirmation that he had surpassed his expectations. But, the youth sought validation in the hearts of mortals who did not have care to give any to him. There lay another fault.)

Though, winter did not stop rushing in open doors if the heart did not feel the music’s rhythm.

And so be it, Akaashi conceded as he propped his leg onto the rink barrier. The tape on his ankle uncomfortably crackled each time it detected motion in its nearby periphery. The injury was a result of his ligaments giving out after falling on an attempted quad jump. It was not the worst he’d experienced, but it was definitely one of the most frustrating due to its convenience of flaring up mid-routine. It wasn’t as painful as yesterday though, he had at least that going for him.

Still, he bit back the curse. He’d forgotten the pain killers today. They were not as needed as he would have liked to believe. But the tightness of the skates and the fluidity of motion made him question his lucidity as a response to the sensation that crawled up his leg as he moved. Low-grade tylenol was stored in the medbox somewhere down the hallway, but he could not be bothered to untie his skates to walk over slippery tiles in search.

Even then did something feel off. And thus he recognized the silence. It was a Sunday morning on a snowy embittered day, the perfect circumstances for being the solitary figure in the vast rink. To be honest, he liked it better this way. The quiet reminisced of his own world he had learned to get lost in, one of which he did not have shackles to weigh him down. Suppose, tranquility set Akaashi free.

Yet, the silence also reminded him of the missing applause.

Cursed be the need for external validation. He hated how his soul hung on to those incongruent happenstances.

So carry me away, he sang to the melodies. Music was not as much of an enjoyable escape as was the silence. But, the right tune would set the mood just fine. He prayed that the Spotify gods would look down on him kindly and give him something worth syncing too. Perhaps Akaashi should have specified his wishes as the soft notes trickled into his space. It was not strange at first, he skated best to instrumental themes. Then there came the symphonic storm, and suddenly, the silence did not seem so bad.

The tell tale tonation of strung violin choked the air. It suffocated the last breath of hope the younger had left in his charred lungs. The song that had filled the arena only days before swarmed the frostbitten air. Though, he did not stop it. His phone lay solemnly on the barrier of the rink, as his legs froze over as if the ice had leached into his skeleton.

Where were the red hot fires of frustration when he needed it? Vexation had been a constant companion of his, more than his own maniacal thoughts. It always burned in his heart, ready to spiral him into oblivion at the slightest inconvenience. Yet, it was as if it could not be bothered to embattle the petrification. Akaashi was tired of his emotions working against him.

Breathe. The New Year was in two days, this would be forgotten like every other time he’d failed. Breathe. With the restart, he would just have to find some other way to survive by the skin of his teeth.

(It only made him think more.)

There was the charm all others told him he held; His mind stretched miles ahead of any physical construct. It was a gift to him, lethal to those he opposed. Because like magic, he’d look up from his feet, and he’d be at his destination. Though it only worked in an idyllic world, nonetheless it had.

And yet another irony to him, his mind only served as a prison. It was never the gift everyone saw it to be. He’d ran laps and loops searching for an escape from the constant storm that brewed, yet none presented itself. In fury to the midnight sun, the quiet mind steeped in silence wanted nothing more than rest.

Retirement had been a nice thought after all the years of heartbreak. The recent months had just been a reinforcement of that idea. It seems it was his time to finally succumb to the passive surrender.

“Akaashi Keiji?”

He had been fairly certain living souls would not march through the door for another hour. But, time slipped faster when he got lost in his head. Had it really been that long since he entered the vaulted prison? As he looked up from the scoured ice, the tick of another hour past resonated through the rink. It was a resounding answer, Akaashi only scoffed at the mind games he had started to fall into.

But feeling the presence of another snapped him out of his daze. Another inexplicable breath in the billowing cold, another cautious step across the polished tiles. The intangibility seemed to have more humanity than he did.

“Kuroo-san. It’s been a while.” He said bemusingly. Akaashi never drew his gaze away from the ardent fixation on Time’s keeper. It was kept firm even as the minute hand gave another resounding tick. He did not want to give his new companion the satisfaction of attention.

Tell tale as ever with an uncharacteristic lightness in his step even after all these years off the ice, Kuroo didn’t mind the lack of notice to his arrival. “Whatcha got there?” He asked, exhaling a puff of cold smoke. The phone had been left solemnly by its owner to freeze on the rink’s edge. And in classic fashion, Kuroo took a peek at the harshly dimmed screen.

Akaashi should have changed his password, he probably forgot. He probably would soon. Fortunately, the comments had been filed away to the back of the digital mess. There was nothing to see but accursed Spotify graphics.

“Everybody wants to rule the world?” Kuroo asked. Since he had stepped into the rink all but a minute ago, he had done exactly two things. First, he had intruded in the space Akaashi had thought was his own for at least the duration of his silent pondering. Second, he’d nabbed Akaashi’s phone and was now picking through its most precious contents. “I admit that was surprising. You usually skate to the classics.”

“It’s an instrumental theme.”

(It wasn’t that surprising. Akaashi had wanted to be a pianist longer than he wanted to be a figure skater. It was just one of those things that he picked up from years of studying under a family friend. It didn’t matter either that this family friend was a world-renowned instrumentalist. But it stayed with him as did the ice in his veins. Even then when the reality of those dreams never happening set in, the ardent love for musicality never waned.

It had served him in it’s own right. He had an impeccable feel for the rhythm and could sync with just about anything. Concurrently, that was one of the only praises he did bow down too. Orchestra had always been his favorite though.)

“How long’s it been since we last stood in the same rink, Akaashi-kun?” Kuroo had hit pause right on the chorus. A thanks might have been permitted.

He lost interest in the phone a second later, the gadget now lay abandoned once again. In its place, the pacing of soles clicking against stone bounced and echoed through the space. It followed Akaashi as his skates took him around the perimeter of the rink.

“Was it Juniors in Sapporo?” The older mused aloud. This was probably bait for another one of his games. It was hard to imagine coming all this way just to pester an old friend. “Your record for Juniors Free Skate still stands, you know?”

The skates did not hit stop like they normally did. Akaashi’s legs did not fossilize either. Perhaps the previous incident had chased the feeling right out of him. Or perhaps it was the flare of pain from his ankle that willed him to keep skating. Motion had always been, for some odd reason, much more painless as opposed to simply standing still.

“When are you going to let it go?” His palms were red and sore from the nervous kneading. The beating of his heart sped up a little. Strange, he hadn’t been at this long enough to already be exhausted.

“That sounds like a question for yourself.” Kuroo had that shitty grin on his face, the one that made Akaashi want to pummel him into the ground. The technicality that he’d probably get arrested suddenly wasn’t so bad at the moment.

“It sounds like something you shouldn’t bring up.” Akaashi fired back. Frustration’s inferno always had the worst timing. It made his head throb, overtaking his reflexes in a passive conquest. Pain twinged from the forceful fingernail jab he had executed into his palm. Though, that probably saved him from leaving an angry divot in the ice.

Everyone had a breaking point, Kuroo knew he was about to snap. “If you say so, ‘Kaashi-kun. I won’t keep you long then ‘cause I know how much you value your quiet time.” He said with more exercised caution in his tone.

He said no more after that, thank god. Kuroo had been known for relentless, over-dramatic speeches in their junior years. And it had been something that required the younger to pull more restraint than what was already needed to keep his sanity. It had been years since then, and Akaashi was not keen on listening to the articulation he felt coming.

“What’s that?” Akaashi asked as Kuroo reached into his coat pocket.

A speech wasn’t needed, Akaashi was about to go into overdrive. He had endured all that for a slip of paper. Well, the aforementioned paper looked important, but it did not calm the twitching of his eye. Kuroo probably saw that, along with the inflamed desire to kick his kneecaps in. It was highly amusing though, so he didn’t break the showman attitude as he handed Akaashi the letter.

“You, my friend, have just been selected as a pawn in Japan’s most tumultuous skating season in recent history.”

And no one could blame Akaashi for giving the blankest stare in living memory. He was confused, very perplexed by the feel of it. He looked at the clean white envelope, before looking back at the hand that had offered it to him. It quickly became apparent, however, that Kuroo was feeling extra unhelpful today.

But there went another tick of the minute hand. It was, too, becoming evident this was turning into an awkward situation both didn’t want to be participants of. “Don’t look at me.” Kuroo said with an exasperated wave and sigh. “I’m just the messenger. All they said was ‘’If it leaks, it's bad press.’’”

“So they cut your trip to Osaka just to give me this?”

He meant it as a mindless retort, until Kuroo’s grin returned. That was the moment he thought of, yet again, slamming his head into the ice. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me too! I’m flattered, Akaashi-kun.” Kuroo chirped to which Akaashi could only respond by staring him down.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much.” He sniped as he shifted his glare to the still-sealed envelope. He refused to open it until training wrapped up. Whatever was inside would just be another source of bother to the already disruptive mind. He didn’t need another storm to brew.

“Go on, open it.” Kuroo continued to beckon, oh so insistently. He hadn’t been the least bit fazed by the silent daggers being shot at him. That fear had grown out of him their second year together. In fact, in any given circumstance after that, he had probably been a co-conspirator.

“Later.” Akaashi said, stubbornly leaving the letter on the rink barrier. He’d put up with this much for much too long to give the other an ounce of satisfaction by yielding.

“We both know you won’t be able to stand not knowing.” Kuroo pestered, leaning against the barrier. Akaashi hoped it would collapse on his weight. At least then, he’d be able to get some amount of dignity back.

“How about I do it for you instead?”

Akaashi’s reflexes were fast, but Kuroo was likened to a cat. Living up to that expectation, he snatched the letter before another objection could be uttered. Akaashi must have let out a choice number of curse words under his breath, but nobody was there to question his foul habit. Kuroo only winked in response. He missed the silence he had submerged himself in ten minutes ago. Being tormented by his thoughts was a worthy alternative to being tormented by one Kuroo Tetsurou.

The sound of ripping paper reverberated more like a roar in the trembling silence. Either that, or the blood rushing to his head amplified the disturbance tenfold.

“You’re welcome.”

Kuroo hadn’t torn the paper, it was a miracle.

“That was reckless.” Akaashi hissed. The page was undamaged, the older offered it to him once again over the barrier at arm's length. He still didn’t know whether to take it or not. Hesitancy, an abrupt questioning before it was decided Kuroo would not get the opportunity to read its contents aloud. It was too late when Akaashi realized he already knew what awaited.

“Congratulations, Akaashi-kun! I hope you’re going pale ‘cause of the excitement.”

Okaa-san had always claimed he was emotionally constipated. Her precious little Keiji never smiled when he was amused, never cried when he was picked on. He never laughed when a funny video was playing, nor did he shriek in surprise at the many attempts of scaring him. More often than not, he’d flash a blank expression. It seemed like the physical range of his emotional capacity.

Even then, a decade older and not much wiser, he had never properly mastered the art of these enigmatic wonders called “emotions”. He harbored an ardent hatred for them as a part of the internal workings of being human. You could not blame him, though. They had only ever fed him heartbreak.

“Give it to someone else.”

There was a loud bang, like a hammer hitting metal. Kuroo must have hit his elbow on the barrier. “Eh? You haven’t even read the whole thing!” He said half-surprised, half-incredulously as he pointed towards the fluttering page.

“I don’t deserve it.” Akaashi answered too easily. The stream of words had been read three times over, he refused for it to become four. That affirmation was enough for the power of finality to lace every word.

Kuroo stared at him in disbelief. “Most people would have agreed in a heartbeat.” He muttered which was all he could manage out in his semi-conscious daze.

“I’m not like most people.” Akaashi shrugged. To most, the letter he clutched in his hand was a golden ticket to the vaulting skies and beyond. It could have even been considered invaluable. But it was, in no way, a path to victory for the fallen star.

“When the Chairman of the JSF personally requests you to compete for the National Team, they don’t expect you to decline.”

(It always sounded worse aloud.)

The National Team was one of those things everyone aspires to reach the moment they learn to walk on the ice. It was the pulsating dream, the idyllic opportunity of standing on the world stage. And at a time when he had not been so different from the commonality, it had been Akaashi’s as well.

It, too, had been his one fascination as a child. No one knew why. Maybe, his parents had let him stray off into the depths of the internet too early. But perhaps it was more fortuitous than irresponsible. After all, his love for skating had ignited with grainy replays of Takeshi Honda’s 1999 Four Continents program and the likes. But every fall and every plow into the ice cemented the harsh reality into the young mind. It would only ever be a dream.

“Send him my apologies. I’ll be retiring in a few months anyway.” Akaashi managed to spit out. The words tasted like pebbled sand, each grain scratching against his tongue as they rolled out. It would have been easier if he hadn’t let the conversation come this far.

“You-What?!” He’d never seen Kuroo speechless. He always had something to say whether intelligible or not. But, the dazed posture, now replaced by one of pure stupefaction, was a contradicting testimony to that. Though, the unblinking eyes and mouth hanging agape were not inappropriate for this situation.

“I’m not arguing with you over this, Kuroo-san.”

(His skates itched for movement, the rest of his being not so much. The open details on his retirement had not been released to the public. He, himself, had not settled on a concrete decision until about ten seconds ago. Yet it should not have been surprising. It had been months in the running. His injury had flared up again, and his program scores were dipping into the low 70s. It was a recipe for a shattered legacy if he did not leave it at that.)

“You love skating.” Kuroo whispered dumbfounded. He’d gotten over the initial shock enough for concrete words to shyly slip out of his mouth. But, he still relied on the barrier for ill-offered support as if he’d fall at any given moment if he did not.

“Loved. There’s a difference.” Akaashi responded dryly. He no longer felt the lightness of his skates as he usually did, nor did he enjoy breathing in the cold wisps of ice-laden air as he had. It was all backwards now.

“And can you imagine yourself chasing something else?”

There were rapid blinks at the condescending figure who was all but crumbling before him. In all truth, Akaashi hadn’t thought of what would come next. He had never known a life off the ice, nor did he know anything of the world that did not revolve around it like his did. Up until two minutes ago, he hadn’t even been ready to let go of it all.

Kuroo realized that too. The other’s posture relaxed a little as if this was a comfort rather than a sentencing off to certain disaster. “Look.” The calm tone was forced, his hands shook slightly. “You don’t need to like the circumstances, just try it for this season. Then if you still wanna go through with your stupid retirement plan, be my guest.”

Akaashi didn’t understand. Under that facade of light hearted banter, there had always existed a hard-toned seriousness Kuroo lined his words with. But, that’s all it ever amounted to. This display of rare vulnerability, he was practically pleading.

“Why do you want me to go so badly?” Akaashi wanted to understand. If there was a logical reason behind this, he wanted to know.

Yet the silence greeted him. Then followed the resigned sigh and a wave of the hand. And before he could even register his own suspicions, Kuroo was pushing open the steel doors to take his leave.

“Don’t overthink it, Akaashi-kun.” was all he said as he traded Akaashi’s peace for the frigid morning.


	3. Celestial Bodies

The journey began with a fall.

The first time it happened, Akaashi was six. He didn’t cry then, even as his knees bore angry red scrapes from collision with the jagged ice. He didn’t complain about that one either, nor the succeeding ones. There were many more falls, bruises and scars after that. But it was just something to be anticipated from this sport he indulged in.

He participated in his first circuit at the age of eight. It was different from all the other times he’d skated. The frenzy of falling did not come that day. He might have won 3rd, but the memory was fuzzy. The only other distinct recollection was a sports scout proclaiming to his parents that he’d become a national level skater if he continued. That was around the time they pulled him out of school and hired a private tutor.

> “Chase the sport, Keiji-kun. It’s the only thing you’ll ever be good at.”

Then there was Junior Nationals at age thirteen. He had never competed at the national level. He’d drawn four as his starting number. No one knew who he was. No one expected him to do well, much less place. But by the trickling end of Chopin’s Nocturne, he’d broken the record for National Juniors Free Skate with a two-point margin. He placed 5th in the Worlds that year.

There was no doubt to it. Akaashi was youthful, and talented. He was on track to becoming one of the greatest skaters of his time. Yet, the victories never shone in his eyes as brightly as they did on stage. These were mere stepping stones to avoid the weight of falling.

Yet at age seventeen, he could have flicked that thought as if it were another speck of dust. Suppose he had grown out of belief in the startling hope. Constant improvement was a mere creation of an idyllic mind. Thus, as he faced a recurrent injury and a failed senior debut, he resigned himself.

(He had fallen.)

But at that age, there too sprouted yet another irony in the youth’s short life. Akaashi did not know why he complied with Kuroo’s sordid request. A human’s need for redemption perhaps? A renewed hunger for external validation? Though, it didn’t explain his agreement to undergo the suffering of contract signing.

> “Your father isn’t coming, Keiji-kun.”

(It was an established fact; Oto-san only came to competitions Akaashi could win. Other than that, he was to only be informed through calls and texts so as to not bother him at work. But, Akaashi couldn’t care less.)

Okaa-san was dragged along. The process had been mundane and thoughtless.

* * *

The clash of skates against ice lashed through the air. It brought him home from that past wave of thought. Yet, Akaashi could not help but be surprised. He had braved the sleep deprivation to grab the area alone.

Though, the rink presented itself as it was. An isolated structure tottering on the summit of a shallow hill. Floor-to-ceiling windows that faced out to greater metropolitan Tokyo. Ice so precariously melting away with every touch of the dawn’s yellow-orange hues. It, too, wafted with a kind of frigid air that both choked with cold and beckoned one forward.

Yet no matter the majesty that was so subtly displayed, it could not displace the stellar power of the figure at the center of it all.

He was a god in his own world. And like any perfect masterpiece, he sang the sun into flight. Each careful pulsation electrified the air. Every jump and spin as windless as they come. The arch of graceful arms, the raw energy of every flash of movement was a thrill to witness. Akaashi knew the being by name, but he dare not intercede on the soundless symphony to which he skated too.

His lips produced no forked lighting, his body forgetting the very twitches of motion. Thus, he watched with blinding sight, a blaze that could not be put out. In spellbound intoxication, the silence flowed in. Why care about anything else when you stand before the world? No, not the world, a cosmic force much greater than that.

At that moment, the idle fleeting thought that he was a star crossed the solemn mind.

He, too, took flight. A fantastical magic that had been deemed an impossibility presented itself in front of his fragile being. He was a celestial body that burned too bright for this world. Nonetheless, Akaashi breathed it in, seizing the whipping power of this shining star.

But no matter the glory he basked in, every encore had to wane, and so did this. There were no notes that trickled into the silent space. Though, none were needed. Akaashi could hear every beat simply from watching the imperfect gestures. He knew the god’s every performance by heart, and every program by sight. He hummed the closing of Vivaldi’s Summer just as the final loop landed on the ice.

A mortal stood in the shadow of a god. Exhilaration coursed through his veins, and hollow bones rattled with every breath. A program by Japan’s No. 2 was a sight so many had had the privilege to watch, but it cultivated different feelings to stand on the same rink as one Bokuto Koutarou. Perhaps in his awestruck nature, Akaashi had failed to notice the levelled gaze of gold eyes.

His perturbation was only saved by the abrupt opening of the doors.

"Aka-chan~! Didn’t think you would come so early!” All too cheerful, a twinge of sensationalism, the voice ripped through the sheet of silent tension that lined the very air they breathed.

“Good morning, Oikawa-senpai.” Akaashi muttered in a daze. He couldn’t care less if his body forgot how to breathe. The fact that his muscles had stiffened into a kind of tense, half-flexed position didn’t matter much either.

Oikawa had a phone in one hand and a drink in the other. Though, neither seemed interesting at the moment. He looked from one to the other, trying to assess the sight that was taking place before his very eyes. The older counted to three before he decided it wasn’t his problem. “Shi-chan!” He turned to Akaashi with a disappointed pout. “You agreed to drop the formalities!”

“That was four years ago, we haven’t talked much since then.” Akaashi winced at the nickname. It was surprising to hear again after all this time. He’d only ever allowed Oikawa to call him by these strange titles seeing as how he couldn’t stop it either way. Though, it was a hard slap to the face, and it startled him back to reality.

Akaashi stood as a figure on the side of the rink. There was a strange silence, the storm of thoughts dissipating into vapor at the touch of the sun. His joints locked like metal plates, they refused to swing into motion without the oil that kept them from rusting. His hand gripped the heavy gym bag so tightly, angry red marks must have bored themselves into the bare skin.

And it was cold, so cold. But it was not from the wintry January breeze nor the cooling systems that kept the ice from melting into a puddle. The chill cultivated inside him. It seeped through his veins and spread over his fragile being, kissing every ounce of warmth away. It was so frigid, in fact, that not even the golden gaze of the god could melt the frost.

Oh god, he was staring.

(Akaashi hadn’t planned this. He would have at least appreciated the daily self-embarrassment to be postponed to a later time in the day. But, when did the world ever turn in his favor.)

“Sorry.” The mumble remained trapped in his head. His vocal cords refused to act on command, his lips were still too frozen to fork any conceivable motion.

(Breathe, he could do that right?)

“You’re so uptight! Loosen up a bit, no one likes a stiff figure!” Oikawa once again brought down the hammer on the situation that was developing from bad to worse. He gave a plastered grin and fluttering wave to the confused Bokuto who had just snapped out of his own trance. An arm was hooked around Akaashi’s neck to drag him off to the end of the hallway. The gleaming smile disintegrated the moment the door to the locker room clicked shut.

“No.” Akaashi said firmly as he wriggled out of the tight hold. It felt like he’d awoken from a bad sleep. As he dropped his gym bag onto the floor, his body crackled with every rigid move. The waves from the black sea of confusion and self-loathing he was submerged in only crashed against the mortality that was his very existence.

“You didn’t even know what I was gonna say!” Oikawa protested, waving his arms at his side. It was one of those exasperated why-have-you-condemned-me gestures that people loved to tease him for. It was always too dramatic for the situation at hand, but it was just right for the theatrical ringleader.

“I don’t have a crush.” Akaashi said evenly to which Oikawa only narrowed his eyes. Though, his every other instinct seemed to betray him on that notion. His cheeks might have burned faint red at that instant.

Oikawa could not be fooled. He eyed his prey carefully as he balanced his glistening turquoise tumbler onto the only hip level surface in the vicinity which so happened to be the shoe rack and stirred the contents with the straw. Mystery liquid sloshed inside but Akaashi didn’t deem it important to understand its contents just then.

“Plausible deniability.” The other said dubiously as he put his free hand on his hip. Oikawa’s eye ticked for the second time, detecting the blatant white lie.

(Akaashi had once mastered the art of silencing Oikawa Tooru. The better part of his Juniors career had been spent putting up with their manager’s bright idea of pairing up the obnoxious and quiet one as if it were a match made in heaven. He’d learned to zone out on command, only resurfacing when another one of his ridiculous nicknames was invoked. He wondered if he could do it again.)

Oikawa seemed to notice the excessive concentration the younger was putting into staring at the bleached wall behind him. The pout turned into an indignant huff. “Fine, I’ll stop on one condition!” His consciousness resurfaced too slowly, and before his mind could register, a bright light marred Akaashi’s vision. Blinking the temporary spots from his eyes, he searched for the source of the flash. His eyes came upon a certain turquoise phone.

Seemingly satisfied with the horrid photo he had just taken, Oikawa stuffed the gadget into his jacket and continued as if nothing had happened. “I’m your designated tour guide.” He explained, taking a sip from the straw. “Supposed to show you the sights and introduce you to everyone. Though, there isn’t anything to show, and you already know everyone.”

His thoughts were still scrambled from the abrupt flash and emergency resurfacing. While listening to Oikawa ramble, an idea had taken a seat in his mind. But, before he could think it through, his flight responses kicked in. “Ok, then I’ll just be going-”

“Not just yet!” Oikawa exclaimed, grabbing him by the sleeve as he tried to make his grand escape. “Coach gave me an hour to show you around which we’re clearly not gonna do, and I was up all-night so I figured I’d get off to a late start today.”

“I’m not following.” Akaashi grumbled. His day’s agenda had already been thrown out the window the moment he stepped foot into the rink. Now, he had to deal with Oikawa Tooru at barely half past seven in the morning. Not to mention the double event of public embarrassment once his startled chipmunk face made it to Twitter. The thought of a quick and painless season had long passed as nothing more than a wishful dream.

“It’s been years, Kei-kun! Think of all the lost time!”

“I’m not interested in a reunion.” Akaashi said, eyeing the door. He only needed a second to be able to dart out. Of course, there was the problem of what he would do once he got out, but that was not of immediate importance at the moment.

“Meanie, Shi-chan! You’re so cold sometimes.” Oikawa’s expression didn’t change. Piercing eyes, furrowed brow, he didn’t move an inch from where he stood in the stuffy room. His tone didn’t either. It still floated with a surreal levity that grappled with the very air they breathed. Though, it weighed heavy at its tinges. (Akaashi sensed the hurt, he almost felt bad.)

“I’m sorry, that came out harsh.” He muttered quickly. His nails started to pick at the bare skin of his palm, his conscience was swirling. What was he supposed to say next?

Oikawa stayed silent for all of two seconds before snorting. “I get it, it’s been a while. Though, they wouldn’t have brought you in if we were to just fight.” He said passively, the needlessly loud sipping of mystery liquid dispersing the anxiety that was grievously stacking up.

Akaashi blinked. “That can’t be the only reason they picked me.” He swallowed down the remainder of the thick bitterness that coated his mouth. Suppose his mind sank into the uneasiness before he could register the heaviness of his heart.

“You were next-in-line, Aka-kun! You were their only choice.” Oikawa shrugged indifferently. Yet, a switch must have flipped. He tapped the straw on the walls of the cup, making soft clinking noises as metal hit metal. His feet shuffled against the concrete floor in a nervous step sequence. It was as if they had landed on an uncomfortable topic.

“I placed sixth at Nationals. Only the first five are assigned to compete.” His voice carried all the anxiety that had befallen in the previous minutes of the conversation. And just like that, it ebbed and flowed into his words in annoying pestilence that Akaashi could not swallow down.

Unless reality had warped itself in the 0.5 seconds he was in thought, it didn’t make sense. None of it did, to Akaashi at least. It occurred to him that this was not the first time his brain had done a 180 degree turn. The first time, he would have asked Kuroo about it if he hadn’t been so dismissively shellshocked. Though, he had a feeling the other wouldn’t have been able to explain it to him even if he had.

“Mhm. It’s a little hard to wrap your head around, isn’t it? Unforeseen circumstances.” Oikawa shouldn’t have been bothered. With three national championship titles under his belt, he shouldn’t have been worried about keeping his place. Yet, the subdued fidgeting was the most he’d moved in the last eight or so minutes. It made Akaashi a little nervous to see the rare sight.

“This was your dream. I thought you would be happier.”

“Unforeseen circumstances aren’t exactly fortuitous.” There might have been a pang of guilt for not wanting to know exactly what these circumstances entailed. But added weight to the already careening boat would just cause it to sink below the deep water. Akaashi was not keen on doing so.

Oikawa characteristically calmed first. He leaned against the shoe rack, tracing the condensed droplets of water that had trickled down the side of his tumbler. “You’re always so solemn. If this is about your retirement, don’t feel too bad about shelving the plan.”

Akaashi had never told him. In normal circumstances, the revelation of private details that he didn’t want announced would have been a point of contention. In the present situation, however, a little incredulous maybe, but not surprised. Though, this breathing slowed a little, the clench on his lungs loosening ever so slightly. Whoever had told him (probably Kuroo-san) had done him a favor, he wouldn’t know how to break the news either way.

Still , Akaashi wanted to sigh and dismiss the conversation altogether. His bones were worn, his heart had been mended back together too many times to count, the fire no longer burning like it used to. It would be much better walking away from it all while he could still afford to cling onto the delusion of peace.

“You can’t run from the thing that makes your heart beat. You could try to chase something else, but you’ll always find their way back.”

Trust Oikawa to spit out inspirational quotes at the most dramatic of times. Obviously, Akaashi had never taken any of them by heart. It was more of a point of laughable amusement once you saw the face of his audience light up as they mouthed these phrases like they were the handwriting of God. Suppose this is how he and Pain-in-the-ass-Kuroo-san got along so well. Then again, he’d never directly been on the receiving end of one.

Oikawa must have seen the cloudy revelation on the younger’s face. He smiled not so kindly before patting him on the back. “Best to deliver it blunt, dontcha think? I can see your mind going again. Let’s go for a candy bar!” He said, opening the door to let the frigid winds air out the tension that brimmed the room.

“I’m not a child anymore, Oikawa-san.” Akaashi’s throat was dry from either breathing too much or forgetting how to breathe. The idle buzz of swarming thoughts filled his ears, so much so it was almost impossible to hear anything over it. Fatigue washed over his being, and succumbing to an eight-hour nap didn’t seem so bad, even if he had just awoken a mere two hours ago.

“Shi-chan! You used to call me Tooru-san, you know?” Oikawa said cheerful once more. He was pouting sadly at his junior who had taken a halting pause to reclaim lost sanity.

“You never liked it.” Akaashi sniped back in his usual monotonous tone. The day had honestly been exhausting, as if it had not just begun. The thought of going to bed at 8 P.M. didn’t hurt either which he knew wasn’t possible. It was still a nice idea.

Oikawa snatched his tumbler and waved his arms in all his theatricality to no one in particular. “Eh, you were always too formal, that’s why!” He whined as Akaashi marched out the door, the fresh air filtering out the uneasiness in his lungs.

* * *

**Oikawa Tooru** @Totooru

Yahoo, Milk Buns~ guess who’s joining the team? @Akaashi_Keiji

3:24 PM · Jan 04, 2016 · Twitter for Android

**pops☆** @KOUBOKEIJI · 20s

Replying to @Totooru and @Akaashi_Keiji

I JUST WOKE UP IS THIS A JOKE DID HE TAG THE WRONG PERSON

**oikawa’s left ear** @courtjester · 17s

Replying to @KOUBOKEIJI @Totooru and 1 other

theres a picture king isnt wrong

**akaashi’s trophy holder** ☆ @sakuspvce · 12s

Replying to @Totooru and @Akaashi_Keiji

applications to be your trophy holder when you win worlds~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't beta read but hope you like it nonetheless! comments and suggestions are appreciated <3
> 
> updating schedule is going to be slightly spontaneous since I usually upload whenever i finish the chapter so please bear with me :'D ill try to get them up as fast as I can!

**Author's Note:**

> if you have any comments or suggestions or if you just want to annoy me:  
> Twitter: @sakuspvce


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